Savor You (Fusion #5)(50)

“Well, then.” She smiles and sets her work aside so she can listen to me. “What’s up?”

“You seem oddly easy to talk to.”

“I have a psychology degree.”

“Should I call you Doc?”

“Nah. Just Kat.”

I nod and sip my drink. “Mia’s pissed at me.”

“Yeah, I heard she was on a tear this morning. That hasn’t happened in a while. Since you got here, actually.”

“I have no idea why she’s pissed.”

“It probably has nothing at all to do with you,” she says reasonably.

“Then why is she taking it out on me?”

“Because you’re the person who means the most to her. Of course she’s going to take it out on you. How old are you, Camden?”

“Thirty-two.”

“And you’re just now finding out that women can take out their frustration and anger on you even if it’s not your fault? I would think this is something you’d have experience in far sooner than this.”

“I don’t think I really cared before,” I answer truthfully. “Most of my previous relationships have been casual. I work a lot of hours. I don’t have time to invest in a relationship.”

“I hope you’re about to say until now.”

“Until now,” I reply with a smile and sip my whiskey. “She has quite the temper.”

“Oh, this is nothing. She’s a pussycat this morning.” Kat laughs and takes a drink of her own coffee. Suddenly, I can hear Mia yelling, but I can’t make out the words. “Okay, now it’s moved into pissed off territory.”

“She said her help didn’t come in on time this morning.”

“That’ll do it,” Kat says with a nod. “She works her ass off, and she expects the help to work just as hard. Which, unfortunately, isn’t likely. They don’t own this place. Their success doesn’t hang in the balance of whether or not we succeed. If we don’t, they move on to another restaurant. But the rest of us will be fucked.”

“I hear you,” I reply with a nod. “She’s talked to me about the lack of work ethic in the people she’s hired before. It’s got to be disappointing.”

“For sure. I had another bartender quit on me yesterday and that’s the third one since summer started.” She shrugs. “I’d love to take a weekend away with my husband, but I can’t just go. I know the girls would cover for me. Riley’s not a half-bad bartender when she has to be. But, this is my responsibility. I know Mia feels the same way.”

I nod and swallow down the last of my drink. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome. I hope you don’t plan to drive home now.”

“I’m gonna go find a place to have breakfast, on foot, and then I’ll head home. I’m fine, though, Kat.”

“I trust that you are,” she says. “I hope your day gets better.”

“I’ve been cut off until tomorrow,” I inform her. “So, it’s going to pretty much suck. I know we haven’t been seeing each other for long, but I miss her when she isn’t around.”

“That’s sweet.” Kat smiles. “And I know what you mean. I miss Mac too. Maybe if you call her later, you can talk her into letting you come over.”

“I think I’ll give her some space.” I stand. “What do I owe you?”

“This one’s on the house.” She winks at me and I nod, then leave the bar and pass by Addie on my way out.

“How did it go?” Addie asks.

“Well, we’re lucky that I don’t need an ambulance for stab wounds.”

She covers her mouth with her hand, trying to cover her laughter. “Well, there’s that, I guess.”

“Yeah.”

“To be fair, I did try to warn you.”

“You did. It was my fault. Next time, I’ll leave the coffee with you and make a hasty retreat.”

“Good idea.”



Twenty-four hours without her and I want to punch something.

Or someone.

I texted her this morning, but didn’t get a response, so I’ll just see if she’s home. I miss her. And I’ll be damned if she’s going to shut me out now.

Her car is in her driveway. Taking that as a good sign, I knock on the front door, but there’s no answer. It’s unlocked, so I walk in and listen.

It’s quiet. Maybe she’s sleeping.

“Mia?” I call out and leave my phone, wallet, and keys by the front door. There’s no answer as I walk through the living space and check her bedroom. The covers are messy, but she’s not in her bed.

Not in the shower.

I backtrack to the kitchen, but she’s not here either. The back door is open, and I can see her kneeling in the garden. I lean on the doorjamb and watch her for a long moment.

Her long curly hair is tied back in a tail, and she’s wearing a pink, wide-brimmed hat to hide her face from the sun. She’s wearing gardening gloves, and is ripping weeds out of the earth as if they’ve all personally offended her.

I walk down the steps and stop next to her. She glances my way, but doesn’t even pause.

“Good morning,” I say and shove my hands in my pockets.